Sweetest Girl
by Apuppetofsocks
Summary: In the criminal underworld of Vale, an heiress fights to keep hold of what belongs to her, a pair of detectives try to find the source of the continuing violence and a young woman makes ends meet by whatever means possible. Whiterose Bumblebee other pairings inside. Rated M for mature content, sexual themes, violence, and language.
1. Ch 1: A Rose By any other name

Hello, RWBYverse! its been a while since ive written anything and as such i'll post this on my spare account, so if its terrible it doesn't reflect poorly on me. :D

Just a little fic that's been bouncing around my brain for a while and i've got a laptop again (Finally!) so i can spend some time writing.

Without futher ado, please enjoy!

_

 **Chapter 1:  
A Rose By Any Other Name...**

Weiss Schnee scrunched her nose at the smell of the place.

The odor was a cloyingly, sickly-sweet, like children's candy, but her current environment represented anything but. The dim, colored lights though were a godsend to her, keeping her porcelain skin and waist-length, waxen hair from drawing too many stares. It was poorly hidden anyway. Her off-centered ponytail hung stylishly behind her black trench coat, swaying alluringly with every step she took.

The gentle, rhythmic pounding of club music gave the establishment a calming air, even while the patrons whooped and hollered at the entertainment. With every step she took, Weiss felt her body sync its rhythm to the beat thrumming through the speakers. It was foreign and strange but calmingly familiar. If there was one aspect she didn't mind about this place, it would surely be the music.

She scoffed at the increasingly obvious glances the debaucherous patrons threw her way as the bouncer led her toward the back of the establishment. They passed table after table of scantily clad human and Faunus girls alike, serving drinks and shameless views of their natural assets to the groups of people- men and a few women, she noted- who paid handsomely for the services with bills shoved lecherously into any strip of fabric they could reach. A bare few of the showgirls might have caught her own eye had they presented themselves in a slightly less deplorable manner, but Weiss wasn't here for sightseeing or pleasure.

Not that she'd consider either activity in such an establishment. It was just… unsanitary.

The bouncer finally happened upon one of the private rooms in the back of the club and stood to the side, motioning for her to enter. She looked down at the greasy, metal fdoorknob, then looked up at the greasy, human doorknob ignoring it.

The Schnee cleared her throat and summoned as much disdain as she could before speaking.

"You don't seriously expect me to touch that, do you?"

His jaw shifted as he considered the cost of insubordination at this moment, but after a few seconds of deliberation, a long, burly limb reached out and opened the door for her.

"Thank you," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Let it never be said that she was impolite.

Inside, red light strobed across a small, circular room, with an expensive black leather couch ringing the perimeter. A man sat inside, just within view. He looked fairly young, but his eyes betrayed more years than his smooth skin and fair complexion implied. A full head of gray hair sat impeccably messily and he wore small, round, wire framed sunglasses and a crisp, black suit.

He placed the ornamental cane in his hands to the side at the sight of her and stood.

The flashing red lights were outdone by his smile, brilliant white somehow despite the hue of the rest of his club.

"Miss Schnee," he greeted her in a warm baritone, his voice every bit as impeccable as his attire. Immediately, she felt as if he could simply be trusted.

Immediately, she was on guard.

"Mister Ozpin," she replied with barely a nod. Her raised eyebrow was far more indicative of her current attitude toward his theatrics. They could have met anywhere, and while meeting in a more public venue was riskier, considering the topic at hand, she may have welcomed that danger to avoid...this.

She stepped inside, avoiding the circular table in the center and willfully ignoring the gold pole in the center of it, anchored securely to the low ceiling.

She sat across from Ozpin, crossing her legs at the knee as a lady should fzcc and fixing him with a withering stare. The door swung shut and she began.

"The last three months have showed little improvement. My father is quite unhappy."

Ozpin smiled, waiting patiently.

"No excuses then?" She prodded, not one to allow him to control the conversation.

"Obviously he's happy enough that he didn't come himself," he countered. "Little improvement and no improvement are worlds apart."

Weiss bristled at the slight. How dare he imply that her presence was less respected than her father's? He would pay for that.

"You're expected to increase distribution by three units this month. No less."

That was a lie. Her father had mandated two, but Ozpin didn't know that. The extra income would be credited to her and she would gain standing in his eyes.

"The usual quota is one," Ozpin protested smoothly. "Where does he think all that product is going?"

She smiled gently. Far too gently, he must have realized. "Into his rapidly expanding territory, you silly man. Or do you think he bankrolls that fighting academy for your thugs out of the kindness of his heart?"

If the insult fazed him in the slightest it didn't show. "That fighting academy for thugs exists to help push the White Fang out of Lord Schnee's territory if i'm not mistaken."

Weiss' eyes narrowed threateningly, and just before she could open her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought about his contribution to the ongoing war with their rival gang, he stood, clapping once and the door swung open.

"Miss Schnee, how could I have been so rude?" he asked, taking a tray of drinks from a serving girl walking by just out of Weiss' view and setting it on the table in front of her. "A drink for the lady? What do you prefer?"

For the second time in fifteen minutes, Weiss scrunched her nose, though this time, even the gaudily-perfumed air couldn't claim to be responsible. "I'd prefer to finish my business and leave your sad little establishment. But if you're looking for distractions, i'm sure you won't find any that will interest me here."

"Oh?" Ozpin's eyebrows rose. "That's terribly unfortunate. i do believe I'd enjoy some entertainment myself, however. He waved at the woman out of sight. "Glynda, if you could bring me one of the girls, please?"

There was a hushed word of confirmation before he closed the door again and sat, tapping his cane twice before laying it at his side.

"Miss Schnee, i'd be comfortable doubling our expansion to move twenty units a month, but forty? What your father asks is impossible. To open that much territory, we'd have to engage in open warfare with the White Fang, and i'm sure that's not what we're suggesting."

He let the statement hang in the air like a question, putting the ball squarely in her court. At that precise moment, the door opened and the requested showgirl stepped into the room.

Weiss' next response caught in the back of her throat.

The girl who'd just entered met her eye ever so briefly, sterling silver irises locking on hers and then glancing away, as if she was unsure she'd broken some sort of protocol. Her shoulder-length hair fell around her face, black as night near the roots and fading to a warm red hue by the time it hung past her chin.

Her skin was pale and smooth and unblemished and Weiss felt her stomach twirl at just how much of it there was. Her long, smooth legs were bare save for the red boots that came just halfway up her calf, far shorter than most in the establishment. Weiss' eyes hungrily took in the minimal strip of ruby red fabric wrapped around her waist. And the matching fabric just a bit further up her lithe, toned body...

She tore her eyes away from the red-haired beauty to fix Ozpin with a withering stare, but he was looking at her appraisingly before shoving his glasses back over his eyes with a finger.

The girl looked at Ozpin questioningly before he motioned at the pole in the center of the room. She nodded obediently and stepped up before wrapping her legs around it, slowly, in time to the gentle hum of the club's music.

Weiss leaned back slightly, careful not to come in too much contact with the couch's backrest and willed herself to ignore the beautiful redhead moving so alluringly just a few feet away from her.

"An excellent observation. War is bad for business. For you. We, on the other hand, supply half the weapons that come into Vale, so i'm not nearly as concerned with the implications on our end. I'm more concerned with the product that is so quickly filling our warehouses when our best dealer can't seem to sell any more. Perhaps we need to find a better 'best dealer.'"

"There have been reports of a pair of detectives snooping around the southwest quarter and sooner or later they'll stumble upon our product. Now, you can buy it from us and sell it at your own pace, sans warfare, if you like. How's that sound, Ozzy?"

The reason for the small sunglasses became clear now, as she couldn't properly read his expression. If she had to guess from his long pause, though, she would wager that she had made him sweat just a bit. "Miss Schnee if you're suggesting that i take on storage duties as well, then I will have to be compensated for the risks."

"Just storage of what you're expected to move," she replied smoothly. The air in the room was hot now, and the Schnee was sure it had nothing to do with the girl. Absolutely sure. She fought the urge to pull her coat from her shoulders. "You're not our only option, Ozpin. You'd do well to remember that."

He frowned slightly, knowing he was cornered before acquiescing. "I'll take on three units at a time and expand aggressively, but not that aggressively. Four is impossible."

Weiss' countenance dropped into stern disappointment. She was happy with the offer, but couldn't show it. It was already more than was expected of her. Her father sent her to move only two units, but she pushed anyway. "Four is required."

"Please," he said, standing. "Consider my offer. It looks better to Lord Schnee for…" he paused as he opened the door. "Both of us. In the meantime, i'll leave you to enjoy the entertainment."

She looked up in alarm, but he'd already stepped out, letting the door shut behind him. Weiss' eyes finally settled on the dancer who was now sliding down the pole slowly, almost gracefully, how is she making this look good in flat boots? Aren't they supposed to wear heels? she wondered as the girl abandoned the pole now, crawling across the table toward her on all fours.

The shy expression that she'd shown earlier was gone, replaced by a half-lidded seductiveness, those silver eyes like a tractor beam for Weiss' own icy blue.

The girl stepped off the table now, leaving her hands gripping its edge and simply reaching her long, supple legs past her shoulder to place those odd boots on the ground. Her tight abs scrunched appealingly as she did so and Weiss felt a fire stirring in the pit of her stomach.

"Well, what's your name then?" she asked, as coldly as she could muster, trying desperately to take control of the situation. She could only be glad that her impeccably bored expression hadn't already fallen away and betrayed sensitive information about her current heart-rate.

A tiny smirk appeared at the corner of the girl's mouth before it disappeared again, as if the answer she thought of amused her greatly. "Ruby," she breathed.

Weiss' face twisted into a mask of sarcasm. "Of course it is. What's your real name?"

The smirk returned, and with it, a little light flashed through those seductive eyes before dimming, but this time the smirk stayed.

Weiss heart beat a marching rhythm in her chest.

"Ruby," the girl repeated, obviously amused.

Weiss huffed at the non-answer before Ruby reached a hand out, touching her shoulder gently. Weiss flinched at the contact, but, for reasons that were beginning to escape her, didn't reach up to stop her.

Ruby's other hand found a home at Weiss' side and she stepped over the short distance between them, straddling weiss' still crossed legs.

The white-haired girl looked up at the dancer now, face swelling with enough heat and pressure to set off a volcano. Her hips began swaying back and forth, still keeping time as Ruby's fingers ghosted circles across the thin fabric of Weiss's shirt.

"Do you want me to keep going?" Ruby whispered, leaning closer and bringing the bright red of her bra closer to Weiss' nose. At this distance, Weiss could see the individual red sequins that gave the garment it's alluring, shimmery look.

"I… I should," Weiss stammered, composure now lost. On one hand, she had no idea when Ozpin would return, after assumedly, counting his books to make sure he wasn't getting himself into more than he could handle. On the other, a part of her that she didn't want to admit existed wanted nothing more that for Ruby to continue and never stop.

Ruby's smirk widened at the hesitation, now approaching unbearable levels of smugness.

Her hands left their warm positions on Weiss' body and reached up to her own shoulders, shrugging the straps off of them, one and then the other. The heat in Weiss' stomach became a full-blown emergency but, inexplicably, something in the heiress' expression told Ruby to continue.

It might have been the fact that she nodded her consent.

Ruby dipped her body low, pressing her bare chest against the warm leather of Weiss' coat. her hair fluttered in Weiss' vision as her cheek pressed against the redhead's. Hands grasped her own wrists as delicately as flowers, guiding them to the supple, pale skin of her entertainer's hips. "I think you're beautiful," the girl whispered seductively, her lips close enough to brush tantalizingly against Weiss' ear with every syllable.

A shudder ran through her body, and somewhere, in far corner of her mind, her logical self railed against the statement, swearing that was what she told every client of hers. But it held no sway here. The normally reserved, stately, impeccable Weiss Schnee was undone by this crimson beauty in a few slinky moves and sultry looks.

Ruby's body ground against her own for what felt like hours. Weiss' coat was thrown open and eventually discarded. It was just too hot.

Underneath, her impeccable white dress was scrunched upward as Ruby spread her legs and leaned her body down in between them, grinding against Weiss with her cheek pressed against the Heiress'. each hot, gasping breath tickling her bangs, and her arms reaching up to grasp at the long white ponytail at the back of her neck.

Finally the door opened and Weiss' hands shot guiltily to her sides from where they were kneading Ruby's chest. Ozpin stepped in with a wave of cool air and loud music trailing in his wake. An eyebrow rose as he took in the sight.

Weiss regarded him coolly, but made no motion to get up or stop Ruby's ministrations.

"I see you're enjoying the talent," he said as the door closed behind him.

Ruby jumped up, a surprising, fawnish innocence showing once again, and Weiss stood, straightening her dress, as the dancer very nearly scampered out of the room. Her eyes lingered as she watched her go.

"Three can be done," Ozpin ground out, obviously not happy with the terms he was agreeing to.

"You'll pay for the fourth, less warehousing fees," Weiss bit out, swinging her coat over her shoulders once again. "Final offer."

Ozpin hesitated, then agreed, nodding once. "I think we have an accord, then."

He stood there for a moment, expecting a handshake or some other acknowledgement of his existence.

He received none.

Weiss strode past him, grabbing the greasy, silver doorknob and throwing the door wide.

"Do not disappoint us," she bit out before striding confidently back the way she came.


	2. Ch 2: Hell is empty, and all the Devils

AN: To clarify, i know there were a few mixed responses to Ruby's occupation in this, but bear with me. 1, she's not a prostitute lol. there's a huge difference. 2, it will make sense in the context of the story. 3. obviously, all characters are above the age of consent. their age will be apparent as you read, i just felt that i shouldn't interrupt the narrative for pure exposition to express that, so that was a creative choice. That said, those who are enjoying this story - hopefully everyone! :D - i hope you like what i have planned for our heroines!

Enjoy!

_

 **Chapter 2:**  
 **Hell is empty, and all the devils...**

Fists thudded against the heavy bag in a staccato rhythm, more akin to gunfire than punches. Speed and power were usually reserved for separate training instruments, but here, the hundred-pound bag swayed mightily with each strike. And yet, its assailant gave it no quarter, dancing around it to keep each swing from completing its motion, redirecting it with another powerful strike.

"I see the Golden Glove is back in the gym," a man called out as he approached the bag.

A dozen meters away, on the practice mats, Blake Belladonna spared a fraction of her attention to the exchange that was occurring between the police recruits she was sharing the gym with.

The bulk of her mind was keeping her body in perfect form as she ran through her kata for the thousandth time this week. She'd be lying though, if she said the blonde firestorm on the punching bags hadn't been a little distracting. One ear remained oriented to the right side of her head to better pick up the voices that were barely audible over the rapid fire thudthudthud of the heavy bag.

The only indication the blonde gave that she'd heard the other trainees was the pause in the rhythm of her punches before they resumed.

Only now, there were kicks mixed in as well.

 _Thud. thud. THWACK._

"Well anyway, me and Murkos were heading down to Till Dawn for a drink. Wanted to give you an invite too."

 _thudTHWACK. thudthudTHWACK._

"Ok, well, we'll be there at 7 i guess. See ya." The spurned men turned and left, the door closing behind them on the otherwise empty gym.

The offer was ignored by the girl, who finally ended her relentless assault with a haymaker that nearly toppled the stand the heavy bag was chained to. It rocked back onto the mat with a thud and Blake finally interrupted her seventh form to turn and look.

The blonde stood straight, but she was panting heavily, staring at the bag as if it had personally wronged her. Her hands were still curled tightly, and it was almost a minute before her eyes turned quickly to Blake and she spoke.

"You're a detective right?" the blonde asked. Blake was taken aback by the ring of angry crimson surrounding her pupil. _Red eyes?_ _Are those contacts?_

"I...yes, that's right," Blake replied, "Detective Belladonna."

She strode toward her, each step radiating purpose and confidence. "You work in the gang unit, right? The one that took down that White Fang bigwig not too long ago?"

Blake's eyes narrowed. "I do, but, how do you know so much about me?"

"I guess you could say that i'm really, really motivated to become an officer," she replied vaguely. "I read about what you did. How you took on that case out of your own volition. What if i wanted to ask you to investigate something else? A cold case?"

She sighed and looked up at the taller woman, amusement in her bright, gold eyes. "It doesn't work like that. Especially when being asked by civilians. If i do that it would be something i took on in my personal time, like the White Fang case you're referring to."

Surprise registered in the blonde's expression, where only steely determination existed before. Clearly, she hadn't expected that answer. But more interestingly her irises quickly morphed to a cool, lilac hue. Blake was absolutely floored.

Before she was afforded the opportunity to respond, they were interrupted when a tall, redheaded man in a well tailored suit strode through the door.

"There ya are, Kitty-kat," he said playfully, his eyes alighting on the raven haired detective. "And a... friend?"

His eyes narrowed and the jovial tone disappeared from his voice as he regarded the blonde. Blake's ears flattened against her skull and she took a step toward him, intending to stand between them, but the blonde muscled her aside, looking him squarely in the eye.

"Yang Xiao Long." the girl introduced herself without so much as a quiver of her voice at his rudeness, her bright lilac eyes burning holes into his features. She extended her hand to shake despite his rudeness. "Officer-in-training."

The designer sunglasses he wore obscured his eyes but his smooth skin furrowed across his brow. He regarded her extended hand cooly for a moment before returning his gaze to his partner.

"Blake we have a case to get to. I hope you and your little boot can catch up later."

And he turned on his heel and left without another word.

Yang lifted a single eyebrow in disbelief. "Is he always like that?"

The detective just gave a small smile in return as she gathered her things, not even bothering to put on her jacket as she hurried after him.

She cast one last look at the blonde over her shoulder. The woman smiled and waved, clearly watching her go and Blake allowed herself a twinge of satisfaction at that as she clambered into the unmarked car.

"What's the big rush?" She asked as she struggled into a blouse in the confined space.

"Nothing, just wanted you to myself," came Adam's reply, his head tilting slightly toward her. She almost smirked and gave a witty reply. Almost. There was a time when she would have let her sharp tongue do as it pleased with an open statement like that. Before she knew how he would act if he took it the wrong way.

"You know I'm here when you need me, Adam," she said, her voice calm and measured. "I like her. She could be a friend."

Something in his countenance changed. No, not changed, darkened, like she'd seen so many times before. Like the cracked moon casting its jagged shadow over eclipsed land. It was evil and fearful and wrong.

"Nevermind," she said quickly, before he could reply. "Where are we going?" Blake was desperate to change the subject and thankfully, Adam took the bait. The storm lessened but didn't dissipate.

"I have a side job. And keep this quiet."

Fifteen minutes later, they were at a warehouse on Vale's slightly seedier east side. Still well within their jurisdiction, but definitely off the beaten path.

Blake had pulled on a white blouse to cover her workout tank but still wore her loose black shorts. She looked like just any citizen slumming it around town when she pulled a baggy gray "Signal University" hoodie over her head to conceal the pistol holster at her side.

Adam unlocked the thick padlock on the warehouse door with a solitary key he produced from his back pocket. Blake's eyes narrowed at that. They had broken into plenty of places in the past, but keys were definitely not something they often had going for them.

A thick layer of dust covered everything inside, which belied the shiny new padlock that adorned the door. The contradiction set Blake's mind whirring before she came to the inevitable conclusion.

"Adam, is this related to the White Fang again?"

He rounded on her, hissing through his teeth. "And what if it is? We don't make nearly enough to be risking our necks in this dust-forsaken gang war. I picked a side, and you should too."

Blake shrunk back, hackles raised at his reaction. Her ears flattened against her head and his lip curled up in a smirk at the reaction. "Now...we're here a little early. The meet isn't for another thirty minutes or so. I figured we could…"

"Adam, no!" Blake hissed, swatting his hand down. "If we get caught we'll-"

"If," he insisted, now smiling wide. "Come on, kitty-cat, it'll be quick."

 _Don't I know it,_ she thought darkly, eyeing the growing bulge in his pants. His hands were now roaming across her hips, tugging her hoodie upward.

"I said no, Adam." she pushed him back roughly now, but his strong hands clamped around her shoulders, painfully tight, skillfully placed so all of her extensive martial arts training was still down to a contest of strength. A contest she would lose.

" _I. Wasn't. Asking._ " The look in his eyes promised pain later if she didn't comply and she swallowed a lump in her throat.

"Quickly," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Their lips met, his hungrily, hers passively, just the way he liked it. Hands clawed at her shorts and she let them fall as his mouth found its way to her neck and collarbone. Teeth bit down, drawing a gasp of pain from her and she felt herself being lifted from the ground by the hands that were now cupping her rear.

Grabbing on to his neck with one hand, she lowered herself onto him, pulling her undergarments aside. At his moan of approval she began working her hips in rhythm with his own.

The feeling wasn't unpleasant. Adam was unpleasant but she'd learned long ago that imagining someone else made it all the more bearable. Faces swam through her mind. Her high school crush. The plainclothes officer from fourth district. The actor from that certain video she'd bring up on those lonely, late nights.

And then, surprisingly, unbidden, she was imagining _her_. Leaving the heavy bag to push Blake roughly down onto the training mat. Her blonde hair fell between them in luxurious sheets, sweat glistening from her toned body. Her fingers were inside her, thrusting in and out. Curled so they hit that spot just right. Her tongue teasing across Blake's lips, teasing until the sensation made her-

"Aah!" Blake cried out, as much in surprise as pleasure. the wave of pleasure coursing through her making her tremble and nearly lose her grip on Adam's neck.

Suddenly she was back in the dusty warehouse. Adam pushed her against the nearest wall and thrust one final, exhausted time before he too gasped for air.

His member slid out of her and he dropped her unceremoniously to her feet. She retrieved her pants from where they lay and pulled them on again.

"See?" he muttered as he zipped his slacks. "Sometimes its exciting when you can get caught. I know you enjoyed that. I felt it."

The warehouse's door opened moments after Blake finished pulling the mussed hoodie over the holster at her side.

Silhouetted in the glaring light, three men stepped forward wearing nondescript grey and black clothing and customised animal masks. The White Fang.

Once a collection of concerned citizens protecting their neighborhood from violent prejudice, the White Fang quickly devolved into the very thing it was created to protect people from. As its founders quickly learned, every organization, no matter the purpose, needs funding and once the initial members had drained their meager bank accounts, they turned to every source they could, legal, and otherwise.

But that was ancient history. The men that stood in front of Blake and her unscrupulous partner were hardly older than she, most of them barely out of their teen years. They never experienced the White Fang as anything more than a criminal gang and held no moral objection to the depraved methods their organization sank to in its quest for power and wealth.

"Adam," the leader spoke. He was the tallest of the three, though similarly masked and hooded. The twin ridges that crested his head, showing through the fabric of his hood, gave her an indication of his faunus heritage, however.

 _Horns,_ she thought, observing the other two and their conspicuous lack thereof. They were either human or had a much easier time concealing the telltale traits that marked Faunus as different.

"Westley," Adam responded, reaching out to shake the gang member's hand. "You're early."

"Sorry to interrupt," the faunus replied, leering at Blake. Her throat tightened at that. Of _course_ they'd run into someone with enhanced senses. "Do you have the intel?"

Adam nodded. "Four sting operations in this district over the next month. I'll text you the details from a burner later today. And my partner is getting in on tonight's action. She'll need to be initiated."

Blake only barely controlled the surprise and outrage that threatened to blow whatever this meeting was wide open. _How dare he set me up for-_

"Finally. You've been telling us about her for ages now. Hope she's as good as you say."

"Every bit. You all ready to take a ride?"

Westley nodded and turned to leave. Adam moved to follow, but she caught his arm, "What are you playing at? I didn't volunteer for anything."

"Go along with it," he hissed back, his expression clouding again. "Trust me."

 _I don't._

Blake's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she watched his retreating back, wondering if he was really involved in this, or simply playing double agent. Regardless, this was generally something partners communicated before someone got killed. Blake followed him out of the warehouse to an unmarked white van outside. Its plates had been removed and the windows were darkened to hide its occupants.

Her stomach did flips at what this implied. She wasn't about to commit crimes against the city she'd sworn to protect to prove anything to these gangsters, or least of all, Adam.

Playing dumb, however, was likely the only way they were walking out of this alive. The door opened and two more masked faunus sat inside, large, automatic rifles in their hands.

"Lets ride," Westley called out as soon as the door closed behind them. The van lurched forward and Blake watched the people around her in the strobing pattern of passing streetlamps. The two who had been waiting in the van couldn't have been more than teenagers, far too young to be participating in this lifestyle. They should be in school, or at home with loving parents.

"What are you looking at, lady?" one of them snapped, nudging his rifle. The quiver in his voice betrayed his inexperience, however.

"How old are you?"

He jerked back as if she'd struck him. "Old enough! I don't like this bitch, Westley, why is she here?"

"Quiet, Murph," Westley seemed on edge, fiddling with something in his lap in the front seat beside the driver. "Adam you're sure you've got us cleared for this?"

"Clear as day."

The subtle Click of flint and the acrid smell of a butane fire lit the van and Blake's enhanced senses protested loudly. She hated that smell. After a minute, a sour musk filled the van as white smoke drifted back from Westley's seat. A hand extended and Adam gingerly lifted the rolled joint from Westley's fingers before taking a deep pull. He sat for a minute before the smoke billowed from his nostrils, as if he'd done this a thousand times.

He met Blake's shocked eyes with bemusement, extending the joint to her, but she shook her head.

"No fun today, huh Kitty-kat? No matter, you'll catch contact soon enough. That sensitive nose has gotta be _hating_ this right now." He laughed at his own joke, taking a morbid pleasure in harassing her, as usual.

Blake turned away from him in her seat, crossing her arms, teeth gritted. As much as it pained her to admit, he was right. There was no avoiding the smoke in this enclosed space and the windows didn't roll down. Adam produced a red and white mask for himself and donned it while Westley passed back a second mask, white and black with vertical stripes across its face. He handed it to Blake with a dark expression that clearly communicated punishment if she didn't comply.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she muttered, slipping it over her head.

"Cut the chit-chat, we're almost there," Westley snapped as the joint was passed around the van. Blake felt her head getting light as they pulled to a stop, bumping roughly as they jumped a curb.. Adam was the first to swing open his door and leap out. Blake followed him, apprehensive. A novelty shop stood in front of them. Red neon lettering read "From Dust Till Dawn." Blake cringed at the pun, but looked inside through the clear, floor-to-ceiling glass windows. It was late, but shoppers were milling about, looking over the shop's wares. The shopkeeper was an elderly man, maybe in his sixties with graying hair and a permanent scowl affixed to his face.

Westley strode in first, waving his gun at the shocked customers. "Everyone down, this is a stickup!"

Screams and panicking followed this announcement from several customers but a few of them simply sighed as if this were a normal occurrence for them. In this area of town, it probably was.

"You know you guys are making us all look bad, right?" An annoyed young fox faunus snapped at them from near the checkout counter. His sharp eyes were glaring directly at Westley, ears flattened to the side in anger. "They already think we're all criminals."

Adam cuffed him over the head with his pistol, knocking him to the floor, then stood over him aiming the weapon directly at the troublemaker. "Shut up, kid. This ain't no bus boycott."

Blake cringed at her partner's tactics, but her sharp eyes continued to scan the store. They alighted on a petite girl at the back, wearing a large red shawl and matching headphones as she looked over the magazine rack.

"We're here for the dust," Westley continued, signaling Adam and Blake, "and whatever Ozpin keeps in the back."

The shopkeeper looked genuinely surprised at that. "Now wait here you little shit, you aint just coming in here robbing me of my - "

Blake tuned him out as she moved toward the Dust rack. She signalled for the two young faunus with them to watch the girl in headphones and began emptying Dust into the largest display containers available.

Her ears twitched as she moved closer, near enough to hear the loud thrash music playing in the girl's headphones.

Near enough to hear when that music went silent.

"Hey, get on the ground girlie."

The blue ice dust emptied, she set the container down in Westley's suitcase and moved to the yellow time dust.

"Oh? You're robbing _me_?"

"You heard me. Don't make me hit you."

Several things happened at that moment. The shopkeeper yanked a gun from behind the counter, aiming it at Adam and firing, point blank. It his him in the shoulder and he screamed in pain. Before he could fire again, Westley shot him in the chest, his shotgun's loud report ending the brief exchange.

The sounds of a scuffle from the magazine rack narrowly preceded a loud crash and one of the young faunus being thrown bodily through a display case with large decorative glass vases. Several of the other display cases followed its descent like a row of dominos and the roar was deafening.

The other customers began panicking and running for the door. Blake rushed to Adam's side where he lay on the floor, legs now tangled with the angry young fox faunus. "Go!" she yelled at the kid and he scampered away.

Adam glared at her before raising his pistol and firing once at the boy's retreating back.

A yelp from the boy signalled that he had connected and Blake looked on in horror. "Adam why?"

A long string of gunshots, again from the magazine rack interrupted her, ending with a single, much louder shot. Louder even than Westley's shotgun.

Blake risked a look over the cover the checkout counter afforded her, and saw the girl standing in her red shawl, what looked to be a military grade rifle in her hands. It was painted in bright red and she looked extremely comfortable using it. But what threw Blake for a loop was the sad expression in her bright gray eyes, as the young Faunus' mask rolled into sight before dropping face-down onto the tiled floor. A large red hole was in the center of it, and the back was covered in blood.

The second young faunus scampered out of the store on all fours and Westley fired a wild shot at the girl, retreating and grabbing the Dust Blake had stolen. She ducked and returned fire. Blake grabbed Adam under his good shoulder and lifted him just enough to help him limp away under cover. She chanced one last look at the young girl in red.

"There's a boy hurt over by the Dust rack. Call an ambulance for him, please."

And she ran, without looking back to see if she had been heard over the gunfire.

Finally back in the truck, the driver peeled off, leaving stripes of black rubber on the ground beneath them.

Adam groaned from his position next to her and she resigned herself to a long night of tending his wounds. She reached over to get started, but hesitated, noticing her normally steady hand shaking heavily. Her thoughts flashed once again back to the hopeful blonde in the gym, asking her to help make the city safer. Solve a murder. Do her job. Do anything other than what she had just done.

She hung her head and clenched her fist until pinpricks of pain erupted in her palm, then peeled Adam's coat off to the hum of the engine and the quiet sobbing of the young faunus next to her.


End file.
